


Shoot

by FionaFoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionaFoe/pseuds/FionaFoe
Summary: Jo spends her days working away at the Roadhouse, bored out of her mind, until a tall and dark John Winchester walks in.





	Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> This is a grown up story for grown ups only, smut, age difference kink, taboo, fucking in public, demanding and sexy older dudes, John being kind of an asshole.

 

Trouble in the county always has a tendency to pull the worst of the worst out of the woodworks. Hunters rush to the Roadhouse from all over, tripling Jo’s workload over night. At least they’re making decent money on nights like this, Jo thinks as she wipes down a table after the greasy hunter who was occupying it finally had to stumble out to sleep it off in his car. She picks up the sticky fiver he left her for tips and pockets it. How many more does she need to get a plane ride out of this utter boredom? Ellen won’t even let her in on the fun of the hunt. Too dangerous she says, but Jo knows how to handle herself out there. Her dad made sure of that. He taught her all there is to know.

 

Jo shuffles across the floor back towards the bar, her step devoid of pep as her boots nearly stick to the filthy floor telling her that she’s gonna have a hell of a time cleaning up later. She sighs as a hand tries to grab at her backside and she slaps it away with a look of warning at its owner. 

 

“We have a problem?” Ash asks once she’s made her way over to the dishwasher.

 

“I can handle it,” she says with a huff, “next time I’m spraining his wrist.”

 

Her dad had also taught her how to handle these damn hunters. He had done his best to warn her about men like this. Men like him, in fact; trigger happy, whiskey gulping, graying hunters. You can never know what they’ll do next, so best thing to do is point your gun at them and watch them scurry away. And that’s what Jo does if she’s alone cleaning up and some hunter sneaks back in, she pulls the shotgun Ellen has stashed behind the bar at him and tells him to get the fuck out.

 

Honestly, her dad had told her to shoot, but to Jo that seems a bit excessive. 

 

***

 

The night drags on and the soles of Jo’s feet are aching. She leans over the bar and lifts them up one at the time, letting them rest. She scans the dimly lit room for an order to take or a tip to collect. She quickly becomes aware of the array of old bastards checking out her cleavage where she’s leaning, and stands back up. There is one face however which doesn’t, one which is looking at  _ her _ , not down her shirt. His eyes are brown and dark, almost stormy, and they are looking her straight in the eye. There is a gleam in his eye she can’t quite make out what means, it’s mischievous, but not like the way those other men look at her. There’s a knowing in his gaze which pulls her in and keeps her there. 

 

“Snap out of it kid,” Ellen pats her on the back and forces her to break the eye contact, “don’t go looking for trouble.”

 

“What are you insinuating?” Jo is embarrassed, her mother doesn’t need to know she has a weak spot for handsome, older guys who look like they could kill just about any monster on the planet. “I’m just trying to keep a look out for tips.”

 

“Well, look over there.” Ellen nudges her over to the pool tables where a group of not so attractive hunters are gambling and all out of beer, and Jo does as she’s told.

 

When she’s filled their order and pocketed a decent tip she can’t see him anymore, and soon she doesn’t have time to look for him either. As last call draws close the thirsty hunters grow almost desperate for more liquid happiness, having her run around the bar like a mad woman.

 

***

 

Ash has just about thrown every sorry drunk out and Ellen is taking out the trash when Jo finally has a moment to catch her breath. She leans back on the beam next to the bar and fishes her tips out of her pocket, it’s not a bad catch. It’s been a hell of a night though, Jo can feel it in her tense shoulders and budding headache. She pinches the bridge of her nose in an attempt to halt it in its tracks.

 

“You okay, sweetheart,” a deep gravelly voice says behind her, pulling her in and making her forget all about her bodily pain.

 

Jo turns around and looks up, meeting the eyes of the handsome stranger again. He is even more intoxicating up close, partly because of his rugged looks, and partially because she can smell him now; leather, smokey whiskey and gunpowder. Jo know she’s in trouble. Recognises it by the twist in her gut and the lightheaded feeling that’s creeping in. This has only happened once before, and that guy ended up popping her cherry.

 

“Uhm, yeah,” she manages to stutter out through the haze quickly taking her over.

 

“Rough crowd tonight?” He takes a step closer and she can feel the heat coming off his rugged frame.

 

“Yeah,” Jo says and clears her throat. “All in town for some big hunt I think. Nothing I can’t handle though,” Jo clearifies 

 

“Well, they’ll all be heading out soon, thing’s dead.” he chuckles at her, a deep, rumbling laugh which makes the hairs on Jo’s neck stand straight.

 

“You killed it?” She says, trying to hide the impressed tone of her voice.

 

“Job was easy enough.” He smiles. “So, you live around here?” He asks sending all kinds of dirty ideas through Jo’s young mind, but she has a distinct feeling he already knows. 

 

“Here, actually…” She cocks her head up, indicating the second floor.

 

The stranger gives her a sly smile and is just about to respond when he is interrupted.

 

“Get out, Winchester.” Ellen’s voice rings out behind Jo’s back making her look over her shoulder to see her mother standing by the back door, agitation clear on her face. “Bar’s closed.”

 

Jo has heard that name before, heard Ellen speak it in hushed tones when deep in conversations Jo isn’t supposed to hear.

 

“I’m gone, Ellen.” 

 

And he is, with a sly smile over his shoulder aimed at Jo, who is left standing on shaky legs with her head full of questions.

 

“Vile bastard,” Ellen mutters. “Stay clear of him if he ever dares come back here again.”

 

“Why?” Jo asks, trying not to let her mother in in her utter disappointment.

 

“Not now,” Ellen answers and Jo can tell she is on her last straw.

 

“Mom?” She half heartedly tries again, even though she knows it’s no use. 

 

“Go to bed, kid.” Ellen says shortly.

 

Jo goes to bed, but sleep evades her, and before she knows it the memory of the stranger’s dark eyes and raspy voice has her reaching beneath the hemline of her panties, and the fact that her mother seems to hate his guts only fuels her thirst.

 

***

 

The next night is even worse. Tonight the usually pissy, handsy hunters are resentful and foul, and Jo can guess why. She’s pretty sure they’re not so thrilled about this Winchester claiming the hunt for himself. They’re not really a group to congratulate their peers’ successes. Luckily, she knows to be pissy and bitchy right back, that mostly gets them off her case, and when it doesn’t they are all too scared of Ellen to not back off in the end. Ellen doesn’t have to do much either, she just leans over the bar and shoots them a  _ get lost _ look and they know it’s best to get lost and leave Jo a big, fat tip. That is why when Jo sees Ellen’s face tense, sees the lines between her eyes tightening, she knows something’s up. Jo’s eyes dart over to the door to see what has her mother in such a state of annoyance and sees the door swing shut behind him. He nods at old friends, some of whom merely grunt back at him with resentment, as he makes his way through the room to find an empty table. When he’s finally sat down he meets Jo’s eager eyes, he shoots her half a smile and Jo feels her heart flutter and her gut thighten. Jo is just about to walk over when Ellen grabs her by the arm and stops her.

 

“Stay,” she warns. “I’ll get him his order.”

 

Jo knows better than to argue with her, especially if she wants a good, long break tonight. Best to not piss her off.

 

***

 

Jo tries her best to keep track of him as the night drags on. And she does for a while, but in the end he disappears. Jo is more disappointed than she’s comfortable with, he should be nothing to her. He’s just some handsome, old guy who walked into the roadhouse and struck a chord with her. He’s no one, really.

 

“I have to get upstairs, Jo,” Ellen says with a grimace as they start closing up. “Migrene… Will you be okay cleaning up on your own?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Jo sighs. “Ash is only a holler away. Can I listen to music?”

 

Ellen nods. “Of course, I’ll use earplugs. Thanks, kid.”

 

As Ellen makes her way up the stairs Jo fires up the jukebox and let her hips sway with the music. She wipes tables and loads the dishwasher to the beat of classic rock, with the occasional sentimental twist. She’d never tell her mom, but she actually enjoys this, tidying up and dancing like no one’s watching. It makes her forget about the boring state of her existence and just focus on the work for a while. She ties up the trash and makes her way over to the back door.

 

She welcomes the cool air outside. It has been a hot, sticky night between the tables, so she doesn’t walk her fastest over to the dumpster. She decides to walk out front to make sure everything is as it should be, no drunks passed out in danger of choking on their own tongues. Last thing they need is someone kicking it right outside their door, causing  the cops to come sniffing around the place. She turns the corner, but sees no disgusting drunks. What she sees however is something much more appealing, but almost frightening at the same time. On one side she had a sliver of hope that he’d stick around, but now that it’s a reality she’s not quite sure what to do about it.

 

He is leaning against what Jo assumes is his truck, it sure as hell suits him; it’s huge, black and overpowering. Jo’s frozen in her tracks, not sure what to make of the situation. He smirks at her, she’s sure he can tell her mind’s spinning fast as hell. He stands up straight and takes a few steps in her direction.

 

“Relax,” he chuckles at her. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 

That thought hadn’t even occurred to Jo. It might have, had it been any other scary looking, middle aged hunter standing out in the parking lot that she found herself alone with in the middle of the night. This guy though, despite his brooding, dark, scary vibe, she doesn’t fear, not in a bad way at least.

 

“I know,” Jo stutters out, and feels her cheeks flush.

 

“Good, you looked taken aback there for a moment, sweetheart.” He smiles. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I’m John.”

 

“I’m not scared.” She responds, cocks her head to the side and tries to act nonchalant. “I’m Jo.”

 

“Well, aren’t you a tough cookie,” he chuckles. “So then I guess I can come closer?” He looks down at the ground in front of him before he looks back up.

 

Jo nods. Even though it’s hard for her to know what exactly it is that she wants in this moment, she sure as hell wants him closer. 

 

As he makes his way over to her Jo feels every hair at the back of her neck stand up, there’s just something in the way he slightly sways with his hands deep in the pockets of his blue jeans, on which she spots a stain from either motor oil or gun oil. When he’s real good and close to her, towering over her small frame, she can smell it too, that classic hunter smell of guns and cars and bonfires and danger. On most of them she hates it, but on him it adds to the appeal. She’s standing in his shadow now, the outdoor light hanging above them only hitting his broad back, and she feels a chill run down her spine as if he’s shielding her from its warmth and cloaking her in his darkness.

 

“So, sweetheart,” he looks down at her, “what if I tried to kiss you? Would I scare you off then?”

 

“No,” Jo croaks, and then curses herself. She wanted her voice to come out like that of a confident vixen, not a stuttering heart sick teen. “I want you to...”

 

“That’s what I’ll do then,” he says, his voice all saultry and smooth like fine Irish whiskey, and leans down. 

 

It plays out like something right out of a movie for Jo. It couldn’t have been any more perfect had it been in slow motion. The second John’s lips hit hers she grows weak in the knees and has to fight to stay upright. His lips are somehow soft and rough at the same time, and Jo sneaks her tongue past her own lips to taste them. Like she expected he tastes like bourbon and mint and it’s not at all unpleasant. His tongue dances with hers like they want to devour each other and Jo never wants it to stop. John wraps his burly arms around her and she snakes hers up around his neck and they both press closer together. She can feel all of him against her know; his firm chest and stomach, his sturdy legs, and more than anything his bulging erection. 

 

A needy “please” escapes Jo’s lips as they part from John’s, and it makes him release a deep rumbly growl in return.

 

“What else do you want, sweetheart?” He huffs down at her, and she can she the hope in his eyes.

 

“I want you to fuck me John,” Jo says, looking him straight in the eyes. “Right here.”

 

First he hits her with a sly smirk, but it’s soon replaced with something else; something raw and animal like. 

 

“You’ve done this before, right?” He asks, his brown eyes looking into hers through a hazed gaze.

 

“Yes,” Jo breathes, but leaves out that she’s only done it twice. She doesn’t want him to stop, she just wants his filthy hands all over her, and for him to ravage her like she’s pretty sure he can.

 

And with that he’s got her pressed up against the cool, rough brick wall of the roadhouse. She feels it scratch up against her lower back and shoulder blades, and she’s sure she’ll have to wear a sleeved shirt tomorrow, as to not alarm her mother. His rough hands pull her top up over her modest chest and pushes the cups of her soft bra aside, revealing her perked nipples. He lets out another deep, hungry growl and leans his head all the way down to enclose one of them between him lips, Jo squeals in delight and unadulterated arousal at the sensation. Wetness spreads in her panties and she’s sure she could come from him playing with her nipples alone. The sweet, burning scratch of his beard against the tender flesh of her breast makes her moan and John takes that as his cue to slip a large, calloused hand down the front of her shorts and panties. 

 

Jo has never in her life felt need and desire quite like this. On reflex she grinds her sex against his hand and he rewards her by slipping a long finger between the folds of her pussy. He brushes it over her clit lightly at first, making Jo’s breath shudder and the hair stand at the back of her neck, teasing her all while looking down at her with a lustful stare. 

 

“Feels, so good,” Jo manages to whimper out, a little needier than she anticipated.

 

“I can tell,” John’s voice comes out in more of a growl than anything else, and it spurs Jo on even more, hearing how hot and bothered he is.

 

She can see his jaw clench slightly as he slips his finger into her slick channel, letting his thumb take over the teasing of her swollen clit. With how big his finger feels inside of her, Jo is almost anxious about what’s to come, it’s been a good while since her last fumble in the hay, and that wasn’t exactly with someone experienced, like John. Judging by the sheer size of his hands and the bulge in his jeans she knows his cock will be several steps above what she’s experienced in the past and she has the feeling he won’t go easy on her, won’t be tender and soft. His finger hits the sweet spot inside of her, which she’s only managed to find on her own before, as he drags it in and out of her young cunt. Jo’s breath grows ragged with every push of that button, and with the continued stimulation of her clit. She starts moaning loudly, praying to God that Ellen remembered to plug her ears and that Ash is playing music in his room, she can’t be caught like this, especially not with someone like John. 

 

That thought, the thought of the wrongness of her actions and John’s age, mixed with his skilled fingers playing her like an instrument makes goose bumps spread across Jo’s thighs and ass and she feels her first orgasm build. She is about to snap and John can obviously tell.

 

“Come on my hand…” He commands and bites softly down on Jo’s erect nipple.

 

Just like that she’s over the edge, her head cocking softly against the hard brick wall of the roadhouse, her pussy shuddering around John’s finger and her clit dancing under his thumb. She lets out a high pitched scream and her head falls forward again. She feels him pulling his hand out from the front of her shorts, and soon she hears him unbuckling his belt and undoing his fly. She opens her eyes and takes a peak; she was right, it’s huge and standing straight in his hand as he lazily jerks it with his hand, her juices coming off his fingers, coating it, making it glisten in the light from the streetlamps.

 

“Shimmy out of those shorts,” he grumbles at her and she obliges, undoing them and and pulling them down her legs with her panties, she steps out of them with one foot. “You ready, sweetheart?” 

 

Jo can only nod, she’s sure that if she tries to speak her voice will come out nervous and high pitched.

 

He lifts her leg up and lays it to rest in the crook of his elbow, she feels softness of his worn leather jacket against the sensitive skin of the back of her knee and thigh, and pushes into her in one fluid, slow thrust. She gasps at the incredibly full feeling of his massive cock stretching at the walls of her sex. John chuckles at her, deep and rumbly, and she feels it rolling through him and into her. She whimpers with delight at the straining, but heavenly feeling as he starts rocking his cock in at out of her tight pussy. 

 

The taboo keeps slipping into her line of thought. He’s old enough to be her father, he probably has kids her age. She knows for a fact her mother doesn’t approve, she seems to hate John in fact. Not only is he letting him defile her, but they’re doing outside, under the outdoor lamp of her home and workplace. It’s so wrong, but she knows she do it a million times over. This would be the life; driving across the country with a hardened, handsome hunter, killing monsters and fucking like rabbits.

 

He fucks her rough against the bricks, the soreness of the scratchy, hard wall mixing with the absolute pleasure of John’s girthy cock slamming into her. She grows lightheaded and the world melts away around her to the sound of John half growling, half moaning against her neck. She can feel the soft prickle of his beard against her soft skin, the cool exterior of his leather jacket against her exposed tits, the way the hair at the base of his shaft rubs against her clit. It’s all getting almost too much to bear for her.

 

Jo knows she can’t hold her orgasm off any longer. His rough, hard thrusts drive her to the peak of pleasure and she falls off, her head swimming as the orgasm starts cursing through her petite frame. She clenches around his member and feels him twitch inside of her, joining her in the orgasm, before he shoots his seed into her, coating her insides. She’s suddenly fully aware that the only thing still keeping her on her feet is Johns’s big, strong arm lifting her leg, she has lost all control of her muscles at this point.

 

He lets her come down from her high before he releases her. “You steady, baby?” He asks, and Jo nods before she leans down to step back into her denim shorts and panties and covers her chest again.

 

“Take me with you,” she asks, no pleads, as she tightens her ponytail and looks at him with her best doe eyes. 

 

“Not a good idea sweetheart,” he chuckles and buckles his belt.

 

“Why not?” She tries not to sound like a whiney teen, even though that’s sort of how she feels.

 

“It’s just not.”

 

Jo crosses her arms and stares him down, he avoids her gaze for a while, but answers her nonetheless.

 

“I’m not about to have some kid run off with me across country to kill monsters,” he huffs. “I don’t need the distraction.”

 

“I’m woman enough to fuck, but too much of a kid to work with?!” Jo spits the words at him, and has to fight the tears building in her eyes. How has he torn down her defences so fast? She’s tougher than this. “You’re an asshole.” 

 

“Bye,” he says and turns away, his boots kicking up the gravel as he walks away.

 

Jo is left watching him leave. 

 

Her dad was right.

  
  



End file.
